


Exploration

by Anilkex



Series: You Are The Third Winchester [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi, You Are The Third Winchester AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anilkex/pseuds/Anilkex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hunt gone sideways, Dean needs some time to resolve some sibling issues in his head.  Problem is, how do you resolve sibling issues when you can't get away from them, and you can't stop fantasizing about them?</p><p>Third Winchester AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploration

**Author's Note:**

> So this one's a little different. Points of view alternate between Kate and Dean, so mind the headers and you'll be fine. 
> 
> I want to make clear that this isn't a statement on Wincest stories, and that I honestly have no issue with them. I simply applied that idea to my AU, and this is what happened.
> 
> As usual, I own nothing, I'm just playin'.
> 
> EDIT: Found a major fricking typo near the end of the story, and I fixed it. Explanation at the end.

**_Dean_ **

**_Now…_ **

Dean walked into the hotel room juggling a tray of coffee and a bag of food. After kicking the door shut behind him, he scanned the suite in search of his sister. When he noticed the bathroom door was shut, and the shower running, Dean sighed and set the food on the table. Now he had to sit through hair styling and clothes picking. He’d hoped she was done getting ready, so they could just eat and go.

Dean carefully tented the lids on the coffee cups, allowing the steam to escape. While he didn’t like his French vanilla latte cold, he certainly needed it at a drinkable temperature. The water stopped running, and sounds of a rustling shower curtain could be heard from behind the closed door. 

“Hey - I’m back. Hurry the fuck up, would ya?” Dean sat in a cushioned chair and began rooting through the bag. He carefully unwrapped his organic turkey sandwich, mindful of the melted cheese that clung to the wrapper.

He settled in his chair and took a huge bite, just as the bathroom door opened, and Kate emerged amidst a cloud of steam. A towel was wrapped around her head, and a knee-length fluffy bathrobe was loosely tied around her waist. She took one look at him, and rolled her eyes.

“Jesus, Dean, you look like a squirrel. What’d Dad teach you about baby bites all those years ago?”

Dean scoffed, “I don’t nibble like a rabbit.” He swallowed and took another bite. “I eat like a man.”

Kate burst out laughing as she moved to the closet. “ _Riiiiiight._ How could I forget such an important personal detail?” She tossed a look over her shoulder, one hand on the closet door. She winked at him and opened the door, rifling through clothing hung on thick, wooden hangers. 

Dean snorted and kept eating.

Kate removed the towel from her head, and shook out her long hair, which hung wet down her back. With one hand, she slid the hangers back and forth across the closet rod, while the other held the robe closed.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. Swallowing, he set down his sandwich, and took a drink from a half-full water bottle on the table, his gaze never leaving her. 

There was a brief pause in the hanger scraping noise. Kate looked over her shoulder, taking in the sight of Dean who casually leaned back in his chair after placing the water bottle back on the table. She took a measured breath.

They blinked at each other for a moment, the only sound coming from the bathroom as the shower dripped occasionally.

Kate straightened, bit her lower lip, and slowly crossed the room. Dean pushed his chair back further, running his sleeve across his mouth, eyes still locked on hers.

She stopped in front of him, tilting her head, and studying his face. “You missed a spot,” she whispered huskily, bending down to lick the corner of his mouth.

Dean inhaled sharply. Taking her by the waist, he pulled her onto his lap, watching the robe fall open. “We’ll be late for his party…,” he warned.

Kate shrugged, letting the robe slide off her shoulders and fall to her waist. “You know he won’t care. Sam’ll play with us later.”

She kissed him slow and deep, her tongue dancing with his. Dean tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her close. With his mouth still on hers, Dean murmured, “God, I love you.”

“ _Mmmm_...love you, too…”

**_xxxxx_ **

**_Kate_ **

**_Also Now…_ **

“Do you see him?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. Maybe over there?” I gestured to the left with my gun. Sam nodded, adjusting his grip on the silver knife held tight in his hand, the tip glistening red in the moonlight.

We moved together, checking darkened aisles and hidden corners of the abandoned warehouse, a single-minded purpose driving us forward despite the lack of sleep and frazzled nerves.

_Find Dean._

We turned a couple corners, dodged some rusty machinery, and found him in one of the offices on the back side of the building. As soon as my eyes caught sight of him through the doorway, I gasped, almost dropping my gun.

He was strung up by his arms like a wet piece of laundry, his buckled legs no longer supporting his weight. The right shoulder lay at an awkward angle, and his head hung against his chest. A desk sat next to him, covered with equipment reminiscent of a high school chemistry set. The whole getup was linked by several feet of tubing, containing something dark and thick. 

What _really_ got our attention, was that the apparatus was attached to Dean’s neck. 

“ _Oh, my God_ …” I raced to his side, tucking the gun into my waistband as I ran. When I reached him, I desperately checked for signs of life while simultaneously trying to hold him up a bit, to relieve the pressure on his arms. 

He was filthy - smudges of dirt and grime coated his face, and he smelled fucking _ripe_. Evidence of a struggle was all over him - ripped clothing, bruises on his neck and arms, a black eye and split lip. 

I ran a hand over his face, softly cajoling him to wake. “Dean? Hey...c’mon… _Dean_ …?” I cried out when his eyelids twitched, simultaneously relieved at the response and annoyed that it wasn’t more.

“Fuck…” Sam muttered, quickly joining me. He paused for the barest of moments in front of our brother, taking in the sight before him, before scanning the tubing. It was connected to a huge needle that had been inserted into his neck and taped in place. A mottled purple bruise formed around the point, and was spreading down Dean’s neck. Sam made a guttural noise in the back of his throat, and his eyes went flat.

I was in the middle of a completely frantic _fix this now_ look, when I saw movement in the shadows behind him. “Sam!”

I wrapped my arms around Dean, in an awkward attempt to shield him. Smoothly, Sam ducked, twisted, and shoved the knife deep within the Djinn, all without being touched.

_That’s my boy._

It wasn’t necessary to stab the Djinn more than once; all it took was one hit with the blood tipped knife and it was game over. But Sam decided a couple extra jabs were needed. 

I wasn’t going to argue.

Once satisfied that the tattooed monster was completely and utterly dead, Sam set the knife on the desk and began the process of unhooking our brother. I barely watched him work, preferring to keep my focus on Dean. I could feel the tension of the last few days still radiating from Sam, broadcasting through his methodical, almost clinical movements.

I let him handle all the equipment and removing the needle, knowing that even though the rescue was successful, Sam still needed to be in complete control. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, relax  
until we had Dean safely back in our motel room. And even then, he’d wait until we were back home in Sioux Falls. I bit my lip at the squelching noise from the needle’s extraction, gently kissing Dean’s cheek and telling him everything was okay. 

After making sure that Dean’s neck wasn’t bleeding, Sam angrily balled up the tubing and tossed everything on the desk.

We then turned our attention to the ropes binding him in place. Sam pointed at the knots above. “I’ll hold him - you get up there and cut him down.”

Nodding, I waited until Sam had a firm grip on Dean before snagging a chair and carefully climbing it. I pulled out my knife, glancing at Sam before placing it against the knots. “Okay...here we go…” I sliced through the knots, grabbing Dean’s arms and grunting as their weight almost pulled me off the chair.

Sam carefully lowered him to the ground, peeling the ropes off his wrists. I scrambled down and joined him on the floor. We knelt there, Dean between us, just staring at him. Sam pursed his lips together, scrubbed both hands over his face, and heaved a sigh.

“Okay…” He looked past me at the dead body, then back at Dean. Dead body. Unconscious brother. “Okay...you check him over. I’ll get everything together for a nice fire.”

I nodded again, understanding the need to burn everything, not only as to evidence of a Supernatural freak show, but because Dean’s blood, _Dean’s DNA_ was in every tube and every beaker. We needed it all destroyed.

But before Sam stood, I took hold of his wrist. “Hey…” I waited until his eyes met mine. “We got him now. It’s okay.”

I said the words we both needed to hear, but anxiety and worry still ran rampant in both of us. He gave me a half smile and squeezed my hand. “Yeah. I… _yeah._ Okay.”

I quickly patted his arm, then shoved him. “Now go burn the sonofabitch.” 

He was supposed to laugh a little, but instead, he grimly nodded, pushed himself to his feet, and walked purposefully towards the body.

Sighing, I looked at Dean. “See what happens when you go missing?” I murmured. “Sam’s been a mess without you. When you wake up, you’d better promise _never_ to fucking disappear again. Can you wake up for him? Huh?” My voice cracked a little, and I caught myself looking up to see if Sam heard me. After a moment, I sighed at the lack of response, and began a quick examination of his wounds.

His shoulder was dislocated, and there were several dark, purple marks all over his body. The bruise from the needle looked worse than I originally thought - the skin wasn’t just bruised, it was red, swollen, and warm to the touch. 

Sam jogged back and knelt on the opposite side of Dean. He looked at me and licked his lips. “Well?”

I sighed again. “Right shoulder’s out - we need to pop it back in before we do anything. There are multiple bruises, and I think that spot where the needle was attached is infected. The skin’s warm, but I don’t think he has a fever.” I took a deep breath and shrugged my eyebrows. “Yet.”

Sam nodded, looking like he was talking to himself in his head. “Alright. Let’s put this shoulder in and get the fuck out of here.”

I couldn’t agree more.

**xxxxx**

The ride back to the motel was tense. It wasn’t the same kind of tension as when we drove to the warehouse, which was good, because on _that_ ride, Sam was strung so tight he would have snapped if Dean wasn’t inside. _This_ tension was because Dean should’ve woken up by now. 

I was in the back seat with him, cradling his body against mine, trying to minimize any jostling of his shoulder. Dad said the Djinn’s poison is what keeps their victims in a dream-like state, so they can feed without worry of a struggle. But other victims he and Bobby have rescued woke up almost immediately, and Dean was clearly still unresponsive. I was trying not to be too worried. I mean, every victim’s response to a monster is different. 

Still...

A siren broke through my thoughts. On reflex, I hunched down and tightened my hold on Dean as fire trucks flew past us towards the warehouse. I watched Sam’s eyes repeatedly flicker to the rear view mirror as the flashing lights blinked out of sight. For the tenth time in as many minutes, he asked, “How’s he doing?”

I answered softly, “The same as he was a minute ago.” When Sam tossed a bitchy look my way, I spoke a little louder. “C’mon. You know we have to get him into a bed, cleaned up, and hydrated. Until we do that, we can’t expect much.” 

I was using my Voice of Reason in a meager attempt to settle Sam down. Luckily, I’m so fucking good at it, that my own panic and unease are well masked.

Sam’s eyes narrowed at me from the mirror. “You’re as freaked out as I am, so don’t lecture me in that ‘it’ll be okay’ tone.”

Oh, _fuck_ him.

Trying to appear nonplussed, I shook my head, “Hey - we _have_ him. We’ll _take care_ of him. He’ll be _fine._ ” Sam just nodded tersely and refocused on the road. 

Gently, I brushed my cheek against Dean, and softly kissed his temple. “You’ll be fine,” I whispered in his hair. “You’ll be fine.”

We were quiet for a while, the Impala’s rumble doing more to soothe our nerves than anything we could’ve said to each other. 

But I’m with _Sam._ And he’s _worried._ So the quiet wasn’t gonna last for long.

Sure enough, after another couple minutes, Sam cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, eyes darting to me in the mirror before he spoke. He used a tone I hadn’t heard from him since we were kids. It was the one he used when Dad was late from a hunt, and Sam needed answers to quell his worry and fear. “Where do you think he is?”

I glanced down at Dean’s face, trying to see if there were any signs of where his mind was currently residing. “I dunno, Sam. He hasn’t said anything at all, so I don’t have a clue what’s going on in there.” I rested my head against the vinyl seat and studied the part of Sam’s profile visible from where I sat. He wore that wrinkled forehead look...the one that tells the world he’s upset about something. “Are you okay?”

Well, yes, this was a somewhat silly question given our current situation, but I know this boy. Something else was adding pressure to his already frazzled mind. 

Sam snorted, and I could see him rolling his eyes. “Really? After the last few days you’re asking if I’m okay?” I didn’t answer, because _he_ knew that _I_ knew this wasn’t the regular run-of-the-mill Winchester worry from a hunt gone sideways. I figured he’d talk when he was ready, so I didn’t push the issue.

The Impala slowed as Sam hit the turn signal and pulled into the motel lot. 

Once parked in the back, Sam flicked at the keys still in the ignition before yanking them out and exiting the car. He practically ran to my door, scanning the parking lot before opening it carefully and helping me maneuver Dean into our room. The sight of two adults hauling an unconscious injured person into a shady motel room in the middle of nowhere was definitely cause for an emergency phone call. Luckily, no one was out (that we could see or sense), so I wasn’t worried about the authorities showing up at our door.

Once Dean was on a bed, we warded the room and locked/checked the windows and door. Satisfied that we were safe, Sam sat in a chair and rubbed his temples. “Okay,” he began in a voice laden with worry and exhaustion, “Give Dad a call and let him know what’s going on. I’ll start getting those clothes off him, and check his wounds more carefully. You can help as soon as you’re done. Then we’ll get him cleaned up. If he won’t wake, we’ll have to run a saline line so he gets hydrated...”

I glanced between Dean and Sam, thinking that it was kind of a toss-up as to who needed more care right then. On one hand, Dean had an infected neck wound. On the other hand, Sam was about to come unglued from stress and worry.

Sam stood, stretched and gestured for me to get going already.

Unconscious brother 1, anxiety-laden brother 0.

I stepped outside so Sam could clean up Dean without me spying things I don’t need or care to see. I dialed Dad’s number and sat on the Impala’s trunk while it rang. I had just gotten comfortable when he picked up.

“How is he? Are you guys okay? What took _so damn long_ to call?”

I rolled my eyes. So much for small talk. “He’s okay. Well, not really, but we have him. He’s still unconscious, has a dislocated shoulder and a needle penetration site is probably infected. We just got back to the motel.”

I could picture Dad nodding his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed. “Okay...I… _fuck._ Okay. Did you kill it?”

Eye roll number two. “No Dad, we played cards together then let him go.” Dad growled a little. “ _Yes,_ Sam stabbed the fucker multiple times and then burned the body and everything associated with him.”

“Don’t get sassy with me. We’ve been worried sick over here. Wait - multiple times? You only need to - “ 

“I know, Dad. But Sam was a tad upset about the Djinn taking Dean, so he expressed it through some violence.” I began tracing flowery swirls in the dust covering the trunk. Dean’ll love it when he wakes up. 

Dad grunted, then sighed again. “And you guys are okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re fine. Not a scratch. It was easy once we found him, and since they work alone…” 

“That’s the one good thing about Djinns. But Dean’s still out, huh?” 

“Yeah. Sam’s with him now, cleaning him up. If he doesn’t wake soon, we’ll force a saline line.” 

“Good. He’ll wake. Keep talking to him. The pull from the poison is strong, but not stronger than your bond with him. Just remember that, okay?” 

“I know...it’s just…” I gazed up at the stars, blinking away some tears. 

“He’ll wake up, Kate. He’ll be fine. Get him stable, then bring him home.” 

I nodded, wiped at my eyes, and took a deep breath. “How’re _you_ doing? Ribs feeling better?” 

Grunt number two, and _oooh,_ a huff. “A little. I’m still pissed that I’m not there with you.” 

I huffed back. “Well, even you can’t hunt with broken ribs. We’ll be home in a couple days.” 

“I know. Just… _*sigh*_ call me tomorrow and let me know how he’s doing. And how _you’re_ both doing. This has been hard on you guys, too.” 

_Whoa_ \- that was such a dad thing to say! “Will do. See you soon.” 

I hung up and leaned back against the rear window, staring at the stars. I figured Sam needed a couple more minutes to clean up Dean, and I needed a couple more minutes to get myself under control. 

That’s the thing with hunting - there’s always this “coming down” period, where the adrenaline is still pumping through you, but there’s nothing else to kill. A rescue is the same thing, only the emotional crazy train you’ve been riding doesn’t know it’s time to stop. The bad guy’s dead, but the victim’s hurt, you don’t feel safe until you’ve left town, and you’re battling paranoia that the whole thing’s gonna happen again if you’re not careful. 

I’ve been keeping a tight reign on my own anxiety, because Sam needed _me_ to center _him._ I’ve faithfully followed his lead, offering help as needed but generally letting Sam run this job. He needed to be in control, and I wasn’t going to take that away from him. 

For Sam, losing me a couple times this past year was bad. Losing _Dean_ was like losing a part of himself. It was way worse than bad. 

And now, the rescue’s over, Dean’s with us, and we’ll get him on the road to recovery. But Sam still needed grounding. Sam still needed support. Sam still needed me. So my own insecurities and anxieties got crammed under control, and with one last deep breath, I headed back inside. 

**xxxxx**

Sam managed to get Dean into clean clothes, and was in the middle of cleaning up the neck wound. He glanced my way as the door clicked shut and I checked on the wards. “Just in time to help with the shoulder.” 

_Hooray…_

We wrapped the shoulder, cleaned the dirt and grime off Dean’s face, neck and torso, and finished a quick assessment of the rest of him. It looked like the worst injuries were the shoulder and his neck. Everything else was superficial, with the only exception being the not-dislocated shoulder. Since he was hanging like meat in a locker, we were confident both shoulders would be incredibly sore. 

As I pulled the blanket up to Dean’s neck, Sam sighed. “Well, he still needs a shower, but he looks a whole lot better.” 

“Smells better, too.” Sam laughed at that, but ended up choking on it. He dropped into a chair, his head in his hands. Just as I finished tucking Dean in bed, Sam started rubbing his temples, his eyes rooted on the floor. 

I moved behind him, nudged his hands away from his head, and began to massage his aching head and shoulders. I swore I could see red bursts of light radiating from him, like a stressed-out aura, until I remembered that I was also sleep deprived, on my last nerve, and without psychic abilities. 

Sam caught himself relaxing and started to sit up, opening his mouth to protest and probably give me a fresh list of shit to do. 

But I was ready for him. 

“Dean’s not going anywhere, and he won’t get worse if you take five minutes to just chill.” 

After a mini huff, his shoulders slumped and his head lolled to the side. The protest was replaced with a few groans and sighs, so I continued to massage his temples, shoulders, and neck. I was just as worried about Dean - but like I said, something was ramping it up in Sam, and the last thing we needed was for him to be too upset to properly do what was needed. 

I deftly slid my hands down his back, kneading my fingers into the taut muscles lining his spine. I felt Sam take a long, deep breath. He angled his head towards me a little, looking over his shoulder. 

“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” 

The question came out barely a whisper, but with that same lost-little-boy quality from earlier. My hands paused for barely a second before continuing to apply pressure on his lower back. 

“He’ll want to come back, Sam. We just need to remind him what’s here.” I kissed the top of his head (twice) and moved to crouch in front of him. “We’ll tell him you have a papercut or something. That’ll send him running.” I grinned when Sam rolled his eyes, but my breath caught when he sniffled and wiped at the tears threatening to spill. “Hey… _hey…_ ” Placing my hands on either side of his face, I forced Sam to look at me. “You have to calm down, Sam. _We have him._ It’s okay.” 

Sam shook his head and gripped my hands in his. “I’ve had both of you go missing this past year. Every time, it reminds me why I wanted out of hunting in the first place.” His voice shook, and the tears spilled down his face. “It’s almost like losing Jess over and over again, and…” I shook my head _Nonono, Sam,_ but he cut me off. “It is. I can’t… _I can’t_ keep doing this.” I scooted closer, pressing my forehead to his. He buried his hands in my hair. “You’re all I’ve got...I can’t lose you guys…” 

I gave his head a little shake and thunked mine against his. In as calming a voice as possible, I tried for reason. “Sam...c’mon...you know that you don’t have to be a hunter to get tangled in the Supernatural. Who do you think we rescue all the time, huh? We’ll sort it out -” He snorted. “ _Hey_ \- we will. But right now, we have to deal with Dean, okay? Let’s focus on him first.” 

He took a couple gulps of air, swallowed, and nodded, all while I wiped away the tears and kissed his forehead. His arms went around me and he pulled me to him. I felt his breath on my neck as he murmured, “I wish we could get out. All of us.” 

I sighed and held him closer, shifted a bit so I sat more comfortably on his lap. I thought of the demon blood inside him. I thought of Dad’s obsession to kill Azazel. I thought of Adam’s mom. I thought of how we were dealing with angels and demons and everything in between on a daily basis, always a heartbeat away from death. 

“So do I, Sam. So do I." 

_**xxxxx** _

_**_Dean_ ** _

Dean woke up, feeling like he’d slept way too long. He was confident they missed Sam’s graduation party, and even though the sex was totally worth it, he felt bad. 

Typical Dean Winchester. Feeling great and shitty about the same event, and certain it was all his fault.

He yawned and tried to roll over, only to have a sharp, searing pain spike through his right shoulder. He hissed as tears sprang in his eyes. He then tried to reach said shoulder with his other arm, only to groan again as _more_ pain hit him in _that_ shoulder.

What the fuck happened? He didn’t think they were _that_ rough…

“Hey….take it easy, Dean, okay? Just...lay still.”

Sam? What’s he doing here? Did he join in and Dean missed it?

“S’mmy? Wha’ happ’n’d? H’rts…” Oh God, his throat is killing him…

Sam huffed, and Dean felt gentle pressure on his chest, forcing him to stay on his back. “I know it hurts - I’m sorry. The Djinn had you strung up by your arms, and your right shoulder was dislocated. They’re gonna be sore for a while.”

“Oh…”

_Wait._

Djinn? Strung up? 

What. The. Fuck?

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

Dean struggled to obey, frowning as something this simple turned into an athletic event. The room was dark, and Sam’s anxious face hovered right in front of him. Relief swept across his features once he saw Dean’s eyes.

“Hey there...welcome back, man. You were freaking me out a little.” 

What’s he talking about? Was Sam _crying?_ “Dude...wha’s goin’ on? Why’r’nt you at the p’rty?”

Sam sob-laughed, shaking his head and hastily wiping away a few stray tears. “Party? Only you’d be partying while kidnapped.”

Dean blinked and swallowed, the fog in his brain wasn’t lifting fast enough for him to understand what was going on. “Wh’rs Kate?”

“She went to get some food. She’ll be right back.” Sam fussed with the blankets like an old lady. “She’s been worried sick, too.”

Dean’s eyes slid closed. “D’n’t und’rstand. S’rry miss’d th’prty. R’lly proud o’you.”

Sam chuckled. “Go back to sleep, Dean. Now that you’re back, I won’t worry about you sleeping, okay? Just rest.”

“Mmmm…’kay…”

**xxxxx**

**_Kate_ **

I wasn’t sure what Dean would want to eat...if he’d want to eat at all. He sure as hell wasn’t going to get bacon cheeseburgers after what he’d been through. But the diner in this shithole of a town was sketchy, so I settled on plain chicken sandwiches and soup, hoping that the broth, while probably not the best, was better than nothing.

When I got back to the room, Sam was getting up from Dean’s bed, a huge grin on his face. I’m guessing Dean woke up for him.

“Dean woke up for me about half hour ago! Just for a minute, but he woke up.”

I’m so smart. I smiled as I set the bags down on the table. “Does he know what’s going on?”

Sam shrugged, twisting around to stretch his back. “He thinks I should be at some party, and he’s sorry he missed it.”

I laughed, pulling containers of food out of the bags. “Only he’d be partying while kidnapped.”

“I know, right?” Sam sat down and helped himself to a sandwich and fries. “He asked for you. Seemed really confused over why you weren’t here.”

“Yeah, well he’d be downright out of his mind if you weren’t here.” I went to Dean’s bed and sat next to him, listening to him breathe and watching his chest rise and fall. Behind me, I heard Sam fumble with the styrofoam container, and then packets of ketchup.

“I feel a lot better, now,” he said, his mouth full of food.

I smiled again, and ran my fingers through Dean’s hair, mindful of the bruises on his face. “Good. I do, too.” I’d also feel even more better once Sam gets that food in him and then some sleep.

“Come on and eat.”

Nodding absently, I gave Dean’s hair one final pat before joining Sam at the table.

I was relieved to see Sam’s food almost half gone already. He’d sleep for sure once his stomach was full. I popped open my own container and took hold of my sandwich. “He say anything else?” I asked before taking a bite.

Sam shook his head and dipped some fries in ketchup. “No...just the party thing. Obviously he still thinks he’s wherever his mind’s been, but he also knows he’s here. I told him about the Djinn, and he was totally confused at that one. So right now, no memory of being taken or anything.” He swallowed before grabbing another clump of fries. “It’ll probably take a while, but we’ll get him back.”

I didn’t say anything. Sam was on one of those “highs”, where something that’s been bugging him for a while was just solved. He’d be chattering for a while, and my participation was really optional.

And he did prattle - about Dean’s recovery, what we should do next, how long he should sleep, and on and on and on.

Finally, it fell silent for a couple minutes as we finished eating, with Sam tossing glances over his shoulder at Dean every now and then. He finished his meal, closed his container and sat back in his chair rubbing his eyes with one hand, the other on his stomach.

Yup. Just a matter of time before he konks out.

“Fuck, I’m tired.”

Christ, I know my boys. “You should be. You haven’t slept in days.”

He shot me a look. “ _You_ haven’t slept, either.”

“Yeah, but I deal with it better than you,” I cheekily replied, shoving the rest of my sandwich in my mouth.

Sam stuck out his tongue at me and stretched. “Okay...I’m gonna shower, then take a nap.” He eyed me. “You should do the same.”

I shoved my garbage, and his, back into the bag. “Already planned on it.” I shooed him away with my hands. “Get going. You stink. And your hair is a disaster.”

After barking a laugh at me, he grabbed his duffel and flipped me off on his way to the bathroom.

_That’s my boy._

I made sure Dean’s food was stowed in the mini-fridge, and that our mess from dinner was cleaned up. Then I just...stood there, letting the news of Dean’s recovery flood through me. I took a shaky breath, and sat back down on his bed, my eyes roaming over every bruise, every cut, every mark that bastard put on my brother.

The shower started up and I knew I had a few minutes alone. I gingerly touched Dean’s face, wondering where he was and what he was thinking. To my surprise, he turned into my touch and sighed. I figured I’d try talking to him. “Hey Dean...you waking up?”

He didn’t answer, and he didn’t open his eyes, but he did kiss my palm, which was resting on his cheek.

That was...odd. And...not Dean. But...whatever.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Love you, too.”

**xxxxx**

By the time I got out of the shower, Sam was in the second bed, eyes on the TV. No laptop, no researching, just the static-y TV. He half-watched me towel dry my hair through drooping eyelids. When I finished, he scooted over and pulled down the covers so I could get in.

After a quick check on Dean, I slid into bed, smiling as Sam stretched and popped his back.

“That’s so fucking gross.”

He shrugged and snuggled close, prompting me to lift my arm so he could lay his head on me. He yawned onto my neck and wrapped his arms around me. His hair tickled my face, so I smoothed it down as he yawned a second time. I kissed his hair and pulled him close. 

Part of me wanted to tease him a little about the cuddling. The other part of me needed it, too, so I kept my mouth shut. Since Dean went missing, Sam was so distant, so _obsessed_ about finding him, that we hardly had any physical contact. Normally, that’s our thing...and we have to dial it down when around others. I forgot how much I missed it...and it’d only been a few days.

The TV droned on about a miracle fat burner, and Sam’s leg started twitching, telling me he was asleep. My own eyes drifted shut, and I relished the idea of actually sleeping for the first time in a while.

So naturally, that’s when Dean decided to call out for me in his sleep. Because when else would he do that?

Sam and I jumped - not expecting anything out of Dean until at least morning. I extracted myself from Sam and practically jumped onto Dean’s bed.

“Dean? I’m right here...it’s okay, you’re safe!”

Sam was right behind me. “Is he okay?”

“I think so? He doesn’t seem… _wait._..why is he smiling?”

Sam’s face scrunched up. “I dunno...that’s...weird…”

“Dean?” I asked tentatively.

No response.

Sighing, I ran a hand down my face. “Alright. Well, thanks for waking us.”

Sam snorted and crawled back in bed. A second later, I joined him.

**xxxxx**

**_Dean_ **

When Dean woke, he expected to find Kate next to him, hogging the covers like usual.

Instead, he woke to searing pain in his shoulder, no Kate, and blankets up to his neck. He blinked a few times, and frowned, trying to understand why everything felt wrong and right all at the same time. He coughed a little, shaking the bed and jostling his shoulder, which only ramped up the pain. 

Grimacing, Dean stared up at the ceiling.

Which was the wrong ceiling. 

The drywall was smooth, not stucco like the hotel he and Kate were staying at. His eyes travelled down the wall and towards what appeared to be a kitchen, lit up by a crappy lamp. Remnants of takeout were on a table, next to two empty bottles of water.

Last thing he remembered was getting takeout for breakfast while Kate took a shower. He remembered drinking a bottle of water. He remembered what happened _after_ he drank the bottle of water. But he didn’t remember a second bottle, and he didn’t remember this room.

At all.

He closed his eyes for a moment before pulling them open again. This time, he turned his head towards the other bed. There, he found Kate and Sam, curled up with each other. He pushed down a wave of jealousy and tried to focus.

When did Sam get here? No…wait...Sam was here already. He remembered that. The bigger question was...where the fuck was _he? His_ motel room only had one bed.

Eyes closed once more, Dean struggled to understand. He was starting to panic a little, and he knew that wasn’t going to help anything. He got his breathing under control, and sifted through his last conversation with Sam.

He apologized for missing Sam’s party. Then Sam laughed and said only he would be partying while kidnapped.

_Hold on._

Kidnapped?

Dean’s eyes flew open. _Djinn._ Sam mentioned a Djinn.

Oh.

_Oh, fuck._

He started shaking as what he’s pretty sure is the truth began sinking in. Once it started, memories hit like a wave, threatening to drown him in their entirety. Mom’s dead? Sam never graduated? He and Kate and Sam don’t…

He was having difficulty accepting which memories were real and which were fabricated. Because the fabricated ones were waaaaaay better...and waaaaaay worse.

He jumped, then hissed in pain, when Kate’s voice sounded right next to him. “Whoa...it’s okay, Dean...we’ve got you. Everything’s okay. Can you open your eyes for us? Hmmm?”

Okay. _Okayokayokay._ She sounded worried and concerned...not repulsed and sickened...so that’s a good thing, right? It meant she didn’t know...

He still didn’t trust himself to say anything, let alone look at her.

Sam’s voice was on the other side of him. “Hey, man, c’mon...open your eyes for us. You gotta ground yourself in the here and now.”

He felt fingers threading through his hair, calming him instantly and slowing the shaking. “There you go. Breathe slowly...it’s okay…” _Kate._ Of _course_ it’s Kate.

Realizing that he was freaking out his siblings, Dean cleared his throat and opened his eyes. He spied Sam first. Most likely because he was hovering directly over him, frantic hazel eyes darting from Dean’s left eye to his right, then back again.

“Dude...makin’ me dizzy with your eye thing.” Sam huffed, but Kate burst out laughing, earning a sour look from Sam.

Dean swiveled his eyes to her, drinking in her disheveled appearance. “Hey there…” he rasped.

She smiled at him, her hands on either side of his face. “Hey yourself. Do you know where you are?”

Dean licked his lips, eyes flickering between her and Sam. “Motel? Sam said somethin’  
‘bout a Djinn?”

Kate and Sam shared a look, and both smiled. “Yeah… _yeah._ You were taken by a Djinn about four days ago. We’ve been looking for you.”

“Guess you found me, huh?” Dean joked, or at least tried to joke. But all he could think of, was that any second, they’d know. They’d know what sick fantasy he’d been living, and they’d leave him.

Because who could possibly stay if they knew?

**xxxxx**

**_Kate_ **

When Dean opened his eyes and spoke, the tension leaked out of me, sinking into the floor. Sam felt it too, keeping one hand on Dean’s arm the whole time we talked. Dean seemed to know where we were and what happened, but some of the memories were fuzzy. It was like he accepted what we told him as truth, even though he doesn’t know for sure himself.

I studied Dean’s facial expressions as Sam filled him in on how he was taken and what we’ve been doing. There was confusion there, tinged with sadness and even fear. He was glad to see us, that much was clear, but at the same time, there was hesitation, and I sensed walls going up that hadn’t been in place since we were kids, when Dean took his parenting role (too) seriously.

When Sam finished, Dean frowned, and said, “I, uh, gotta take a leak.”

A worried look crossed Sam’s face before he nodded and pulled the covers off. “Yeah, okay. We were wondering when you’d want to go.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve been thinking about me going to the bathroom?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “As part of your recovery, jackass. You’re dehydrated, so we weren’t sure how badly you’d need to…” He made vague gestures at Dean. “You know. Go.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, whatever. Just...help me up, cuz, _nnnghhghhh… Ohmygodthisfuckinghurts…_ ”

Unable to effectively use his arms, Dean needed to be pushed from behind on his back in order to sit. Sam helped haul him to his feet, where he swayed alarmingly. 

“Sam…” I warned, coming around the bed to Dean’s side.

“I know...I got him.”

Dean batted our hands away, taking a step or two to regain his balance. “Quit hovering. I can… _whoa…_ ” A dizzy spell hit, and the swaying became downright unacceptable. 

Sam and I reached out to steady him, my arm around Dean’s waist, and Sam’s on his chest and back. “No, Dean, you can’t,” Sam huffed. “Let us help you, okay? Just...just shut up, and let us help. Small steps. Here we go…”

Dean nodded and followed Sam’s directions, but we both felt him stiffen as soon as we touched him. When we got to the bathroom, Dean once again batted our hands away. “You’re not helpin’ me in here. I’ll be fine.” He shuffled inside, and Sam closed the door.

“Hey,” Sam called through the door. “Yell when you’re done.”

We got a grunt in reply.

I motioned for Sam to move away from the door a bit, and whispered, “He seem off to you?”

Sam gave me a _Really?_ look. 

I punched him. “You know what I mean. He knows where he is. He knows what’s going on. But he’s holding on to something in his head.”

Sam deflated and leaned against the wall. “Yeah, I felt it. He’s saying the right stuff, and doing the right stuff, but the poison’s still messing with him.” He met my gaze and brushed my hair off my face. “We gotta give him some time, Kate. It’s only been a few minutes.”

Now _I_ snorted. “Listen to you, Mr. Calm and Collected.”

He shrugged and stood up when we heard the toilet flush. “He’s awake. He’s here. We’re bringing him home.”

“Didn’t I say that to you last night?”

“Shut up.”

Dean called out, “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Help with the water?”

Sam flashed me a grin before walking over. “Sure thing.”

After the bathroom trip was finished, and Sam helped Dean get back in bed, I heated up the soup from last night and brought it over. Dean made a face at it, but I didn’t care.

“Sorry, kiddo, but you need to eat something. Gotta get the poison out of your system, and that means--”

“Food and water and staying awake, yeah yeah yeah, I know.” He struggled to sit up more and weakly motioned for the bowl.

“Pfffft - like you can feed yourself right now. Relax. I got this.”

Sam hid a smirk and turned away to grab his keys and jacket. “I’ll go get some coffee and more food. If you’re feeling up to it, we can start heading home in a bit.”

Dean took one look at the spoon in my hand, then wrinkled his face. “Grab me somethin’ else, Sam - this shit looks suspicious.”

“It’s not that bad.” Then I tried it, and spit it out. “Yeah, okay. Get something else, Sam. It tastes suspicious, too.”

Laughing, Sam shut the door behind him, leaving Dean and I alone.

Now, we’ve been alone (together) a lot. When Sam was at Stanford, we hunted with Dad for a while, and sometimes were on our own when the Demon trail went this-a-way, and other cases were that-a-way. We’ve shared numerous motel rooms, meals, long drives, and injury patch-ups. Never had a problem.

Until now.

Dean refused to make eye contact, instead concentrating like a champ on the threadbare blanket, occasionally wincing when something hurt. Needing to do something, I dumped the soup down the drain and grabbed the med kit supplies.

“Let me change the bandage on your neck, okay?”

He frowned as I waggled the bandages and antibiotic cream at him. “My neck?” He winced once more as he lifted an arm to the gauze taped at his neck.

Sighing, I sat down and started peeling back the tape. “Remember Sam told you about the needle? That’s how the Djinn pulled blood out of you. The site’s a little infected… _ugh,_ yeah. Does it hurt?” I searched his face for signs of honesty when he answered, not sure whether he’d really be forthcoming or not.

He blinked, eyes meeting mine for only a second before flitting away. “Not really. Warm, though, now that I’m thinkin’ on it.”

I nodded and replaced the bandage, adding more cream to the wound. “That’s infection for you.” What a stupid thing to say - like he didn’t know. But I was nervous...and I don’t even know why. Everything just felt uncomfortable.

Once the bandage was fresh, I blew a raspberry. “Probably should’ve waited until you showered.”

Dean shrugged, “Nah...it’s fine. Thanks.” He shuffled his feet under the blankets, like he was embarrassed.

After setting the supplies off to the side, I checked his forehead for a fever. “How do you feel otherwise?” I slid my hands to his cheeks and neck, noting that his skin was a bit warm. Not all out fever warm, but more like ninety-nine degrees warm, if I had to guess.

And funny thing - he didn’t duck, move, cringe or otherwise try to avoid my touch. He accepted my caretaking without a fight.

Another shrug. “Head’s still foggy. I just feel sore everywhere. Throat’s raw, too.”

 _Fuck._ “I’ll get you some water and in a bit, some Tylenol.” As I went into the kitchen, I mentally kicked myself for not getting him water earlier. I was so distracted with his weird behavior that everything else was being forgotten.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, water’s good. Thanks…”

I cracked open the bottle top and helped him raise it to his lips. He took small sips (without prompting!) and smiled a thanks.

We sat in silence for a minute or so, but it felt like hours. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I leaned over and pressed my forehead to his, one hand on his cheek. His whole body tensed, making me want to cry. But then he relaxed into my touch, and let out a shaky sigh.

I sat back, but kept my hand on his face, searching his eyes with mine. _We were so scared. I’m glad you’re here. I love you._

Dean’s eyes closed briefly in acknowledgement, and really, that’s all I expected from him. So when he said, “I love you, too,” I almost fell off the bed.

Not having my poker face ready, Dean immediately backpedaled. “I mean, you know what I mean, right? I didn’t mean--”

I cut him off with a kiss on the cheek and another gentle headbutt. I wanted to tell him _I know what you meant...It was nice to hear it out loud...please relax._ But I didn’t, knowing that more words would make him more uncomfortable. So I just applied pressure to the back of his head, and held my tongue.

Eventually, he relaxed again. His breathing was deep and measured...a sure sign that he was battling for control over his emotions. 

I replayed Sam’s words in my mind, which were pretty much an echo of the schpeel I gave the night before. _Give him time. It hasn’t been that long. Be patient._

One last kiss on his forehead, which may have lingered for a few seconds, and I asked, “How about some TV?”

Dean sniffed, blinking back what I swore were tears. “Sounds good, yeah.” I grabbed the remote and found an eighties action flick to help pass the time until Sam returned.

**xxxxx**

**_Dean_ **

Dean never wished for Sam to hurry back with shitty diner food more than tonight. Being alone with Kate was almost torture, as he sorted through his emotions. He didn’t mean to tell her he loved her - he’s never said it out loud to anyone but his mom. But in the fantasy world, he told her all the time, and now that he’s back, well, it just slipped out.

The look of shock on her face almost made him throw up. She recovered well, and Dean’s pretty sure she chalked it up to Djinn poison weirdness. 

Thank God.

The more Dean stayed awake, the more fleeting his fantasy world became. Specific memories, like the wall color in the apartment he and Kate shared, or where they ate for Mom’s birthday party last month...those things were being lost every minute. But the emotions...the contentment with his life as a mechanic, the joy from Sam’s graduation and upcoming wedding, love for his mom...those stayed.

Stuck to that, though, was this… _relationship_...he had with Kate and Sam (when he was around). It was private, it was sexy, it was freedom, it was _wanted._

How could an incestuous relationship be Dean’s fantasy world? What does that say about him? 

Thankfully, Kate turned on the TV, filling the room with nonsense chatter and explosions so they didn’t have to find something to talk about. He hasn’t been conscious for long, and he was already tired of thinking.

She also brought him some Tylenol for the numerous aches he had to endure.

He’d forgotten how it felt to hurt like that.

 _He_ knew that _she_ knew something was bothering him - she could always read him, no matter how hard he tried to mask his thoughts. But she stayed on the other bed, giving him space, waiting for him to voice whether he needed or wanted her.

Problem was, when _didn’t_ he?

Dean wasn’t quite able to stay focused, despite the constant barrage of guilt and shame that paraded through his head. This worried him, because what if something more than ‘I love you’ slipped out? So he worked really hard to stay above water, remain in the here and now (as Sam called it), and stay alert.

He dozed off barely ten minutes into the movie. 

His head listed to the side, pulling the muscles in his neck, startling him. That, in turn, made his arms flail a bit, which hurt his shoulder, and had him crying out.

So much for that.

Kate was at his side in a second, catching him in her arms, and leaning him onto the headrest. She slid into bed next to him, without saying a word, and gently pulled him to her. Dean wanted to fight her - he did. But he was so tired, and he already missed her so much, that he practically sobbed in relief when his face rested against her.

Already, he felt better, physically and emotionally. He couldn’t help it. Her arms came around him, her fingers were carding his hair and Dean just melted into her touch, and fell asleep.

**xxxxx**

**_Kate_ **

Dean always tried to hide everything he was feeling. I supposed it had something to do with raising us, and needing to project _Dad_ so we didn’t worry.

News flash: we worried anyway.

Once Dean and I crossed that threshold of ‘hey I’m not a kid anymore so you can rely on me’, things changed...at least as much as Dean Winchester can actually relax and let others be there for him.

But that’s how he is, that’s how he’s wired, and that’s how we love him.

He was awake all of an hour or so, and I was already overreacting to the emotional walls he put back in place. It wasn’t that he was keeping us distant - we’re used to that. It’s what I saw or felt underneath: _shame._

What the hell did he have to be ashamed of? I got kidnapped twice, Sam’s been bewitched, even Dad’s been caught off guard. It happens. 

But knowing Dean, he’ll take it to an extreme, then do something stupid to prove that he’s still worthy of...whatever he needs to be worthy of.

So when he finally leaned on me, _whimpering,_ I wrapped him up and held him close, willing him to sleep it off.

That’s how Sam found us when he came back with arms full of breakfast, and his phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder.

“Yeah...we checked. … There’s nothing else.” He kicked the door shut and half-nodded a hello, flashing a smile when he saw Dean with me. “Yes, Dad, I know. Stop worrying. … …” He rolled his eyes at me. “We’ll call from the road. … I don’t know - as soon as he gets a shower. I don’t think I can do the trip with him smelling like that. … Heh...yeah. … Okay. You, too. Bye.”

He dropped the phone on the bed before setting the food on the table. He nodded towards us. “He okay?”

“Yeah...gave him some Tylenol. He was hurting and was just really…uncomfortable. Plus he has a low-grade fever from that infection. He’s been out almost half an hour. What took you so long?”

Another eye roll. “I didn’t want to go back to that diner, so I tracked down another place, but it was on the edge of town. Dad wants us on the road asap.”

I snorted. “We’ll get on the road whenever Dean’s ready.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Well, lookit you.”

“Fuck off. That’s what _you_ told him!”

“Yeah, but not in your sassy voice.” He paused to look Dean over, his hands on his hips. “What should we do?”

I nuzzled my cheek against Dean’s hair. “Let him sleep, Sam. When he wakes, we’ll clean him up and get on the road.”

Sam nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. I’ll bring you your food and we’ll just wait this out.”

**xxxxx**

The waiting took another couple hours, which was fine, because truthfully, Sam needed the downtime, too. We ended up napping, with Dean safely between us, our food forgotten on the table despite our intentions to eat.

I was drifting in and out of sleep, comfortable in that zone where you’re mostly aware of what’s going on around you, but you don’t give a shit because you’re warm and content.

Sam stretched and rolled from back to front, flinging one arm across Dean. Dean, responding to the movement, began to stir. He rubbed his face against my neck, murmuring something I couldn’t quite catch. I nuzzled him back, and shifted a bit so his elbow wasn’t stabbing my bladder. He coughed, wincing in pain as he brought up an arm to steady his shoulder.

“Want some water?” I whispered.

“Mmmm...MmmHmm,” he hummed, taking small sips and nodding when finished.

I wiped the corner of his mouth with my sleeve. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmm...better.” He cleared his throat. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s practically laying on top of you.”

Dean turned his head and huffed. He sniffed and gagged a little. “ _Fuuuuuuck,_ I need a shower.”

“ _Yeah,_ you do.” We both laughed. “Sam’ll help if you need it, you know. You don’t have to worry about that.”

To my surprise, Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I’m _sure_ he will.” He smiled then settled back against me.

I smiled at him. “We’re gonna help you get over this poison. But we _really_ need you to not stink more than anything.” 

Then he froze. 

My intention was for him to laugh and toss a snarky comment my way. Instead, something clicked inside him, and his whole demeanor shifted. I had a feeling he wasn’t quite awake, that in his sleep, he was back in that fantasy world, _until that moment._ But what shifted it? 

He struggled to sit up, away from me. “I...um...I should...just….”

“Dean...wait…” I started.

The two of us moving around roused Sam, who caught Dean just as he was pitching himself forward. “Whoa - hold on! You’re not driving!”

Dean and I both stared at him. 

Sam blinked back, clearly not awake. “Um. Thought you were going for the keys. Or. Something.”

Before Dean could open his mouth, I quickly said, “He wants a shower and got up too fast.”

Dean’s head bowed just enough to hide his face. He didn’t say anything.

Sam looked from him to me. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Okay, let’s do that, then get on the road.”

**xxxxx**

**_Dean_ **

Dean was smiling to himself about Sam helping him in the shower. He remembered the last time Sam “helped” him in the shower. But as soon as Kate mentioned the poison, reality slammed into him, reminding Dean which world he was in. Panic swept through him, as he catalogued everything he said and did, wondering if anything… _inappropriate._..happened.

The initial sweep indicated he was safe, but the erection forming in his pants told him he had to get up and away from them before they suspected anything.

Safe in the bathroom, Dean let his head hang on his chest for a moment. How long could he keep this up? What if Dad…

He shook his head and stepped into the shower Sam started for him. It was a long and slow process, which he knew would have gone much faster if he accepted help. But there was no fucking way in hell he’d let either of them in here, so slow and painful it was. He could pass out again in the Impala and block out the pain on the drive.

The worst was washing his hair, since neither arm really wanted to cooperate. He still made it happen, amidst tears of pain and frustration that washed down the drain with the dirt and grime.

He had no idea how long it took, but eventually he felt clean enough to get out and change into clean clothes. 

When he stumbled out of the bathroom, Kate and Sam were at the table eating. They looked up and smiled as he lumbered towards them. The looks on their faces made him feel like a little kid who just learned how to use the bathroom by himself. Sam got up and pulled out a chair, into which he practically collapsed.

“Feel better?” Kate asked around a mouthful of food. Their eyes met briefly, and Dean knew she was thinking about what happened on the bed. Obviously she knew he shut down on her...she’s just not sure why. Her eyes were full of worry and concern, and he felt even more guilty for confusing her.

“Yeah, actually. How long was I in there?”

Sam grinned as he sat back down. “About an hour.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Shit. That’s… _wow._ ”

Sam shrugged. “We understand - you want to look your best for the drive.”

Dean snorted, and gingerly rubbed his eyes. “I understand that I smelled godfuckingawful.”

Kate pushed a sandwich towards him. “Think you can eat something?”

Nodding, Dean reached for the paper wrapped delight, but ended up groaning in pain. Without missing a beat, Sam quietly unwrapped it and held it out for Dean to bite.

A part of him wanted to smack Sam’s hand away, declaring how independent he was. But that part got drowned out in the wake of pulled muscles and infected neck wounds. Dean grunted a thanks, and let Sam feed him.

No one commented, to which Dean was thankful.

Kate swallowed the last of her sandwich and balled up the wrapper. “I’ll start hauling stuff to the car while you guys finish up.”

Sam nodded at her, holding the sandwich for Dean again. “Just leave the med kit - one more patch-up before we drive.”

Kate nodded back, gave Dean a warm smile, then began taking their bags to the car. No one asked Dean what he wanted to do, whether the plan was okay, or even which route they were taking home.

Which reminded him. “Where the hell are we, anyway?” He licked a piece of bread off his bottom lip.

Sam stifled a burp into his fist. “Outside Cheyenne, Wyoming. We have about nine hours or so until we’re home.”

Dean took another bite, this time venturing to hold the sandwich with his left hand. None hours in the car. With them. He could do this. “Not too bad.”

“Nope. Be home tonight for sure.” He held out a water bottle with a straw in it. Dean raised his eyebrows, and Sam shrugged. “What? You can drink it this way.”

“No...I mean, yeah. That’s perfect. Thanks, man.” Sam looked pleased that Dean was pleased. Awesome.

After a few more minutes of eating, the door opened and Kate came back inside, cool air billowing her coat and making her hair seem to float around her head. “How’re we doing?”

“Almost done,” Sam answered, holding the last of the sandwich out for Dean, who quietly ate it. He liked it when they took control, so he could just...not be in control.

“‘Kay. I’ll hit the can then we can go.”

Sam grinned at her, making her blush. “Fuck off. It’s been a rough few days.” She stuck out her tongue at him then disappeared into the bathroom. Sam shot Dean a look, and they both laughed. It felt good.

Sam sighed. “Okay, let’s get a fresh bandage on your neck and get going. Dad’s freaking out about us not being home yet.”

While Sam ripped open packets of gauze, Dean decided to start asking questions. “So...why isn’t Dad here?” It was irrational, but he’d been thinking it was because Dad knew...somehow, he knew…

“Broken ribs, remember? Oh...right...I guess you don’t. He took on a spirit in Iowa, and got knocked into a brick wall. They were probably just fractured until he drove all the way home instead of just resting a few days.” Sam shook his head, his voice taking a slightly angrier tone with every word, masking what Dean knew was worry. “He’s on bedrest, and I think Bobby’s about to smother him in his sleep because he’s been so whiny.”

Dean laughed, both with amusement and relief. How could Dad know? It was stupid - really stupid to even think it.

“Adam almost came along, you know,” Sam said, eyes flickering to Dean’s before refocusing on taping the gauze. “Insisted on it, actually. But Bobby was helping Rufus with something, and someone had to babysit Dad.” He ripped off the tape, and gently pressed on Dean’s neck, making sure the tape held in place. He kept his eyes on the supplies as he continued. “I didn’t want you to think that he didn’t want to be here. But...I, um...I guess I didn’t want him to...I mean Kate’s fine and all - it’s different with her. And it’s not like I mind Adam or anything. But I just, I mean…” He huffed, tossed the remaining gauze on the table, and plunged his hands in his hair.

Dean’s eyebrows went back up, wondering where Sam was going with this. In a low voice, Sam sighed, “I didn’t want to share this. I didn’t want to even think about needing to share getting you with anyone else. I knew I needed backup, and I knew...I knew _I_ needed Kate here. But it’s just…” Sam met Dean’s gaze. “I lost my mind when you were gone. I can’t lose you. And I guess I knew Kate’d let me take the lead and she’d…”

“She’d backup and support and not get in the way, like she always does,” Dean finished for him, nodding his head in understanding.

Sam looked relieved. “Yeah, you know what I mean...how she is. I didn’t feel like jockeying for position with Adam. Not that he’d do that to me! _Argh,_ this isn’t coming out right.” He stood up, pulling at his hair in embarrassment, and began to pace.

Dean sat up and took a deep breath. Fantasy world or reality, Sam was still Sam. “Hey...I get it. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Was it bad that Dean felt better after this haphazard speech?

Sam stopped pacing, his back to Dean, and let his arms drop to his side. “Yeah, okay. Um...yeah. C’mon...let’s get ready to go.”

**xxxxx**

_**Kate** _

We’d been on the road for about an hour, when the soft whimpers started. Every bump the Impala hit, every turn it took, jarred Dean’s entire body, especially his shoulders, and I knew he was in a lot of pain. 

He wanted to wait on the stronger pain meds. I think he wanted more time in this reality, and being doped up on pills wasn’t going to help with that. So instead, he holed up in the back seat (to stretch out, he claimed) and was bouncing around, unable to get comfortable.

I tried to push my way back there with him, to be a human pillow if nothing else, but Dean refused. Said that the pillow we swiped was perfectly fine, and he’s just getting used to the ride.

_Riiiiight._

Finally, in hour two, he asked for the pills, so we handed them over and out he went.

Once I was sure he was asleep, I propped my feet against the dash (which I only do when Dean’s unconscious) and began to grill Sam. “Okay, something’s not right with him. And don’t give me the speech about how it hasn’t been long enough or we need to be patient. I _know_ something’s wrong.”

Sam glanced in the rear view mirror at our snoring brother before shifting a little in his seat and sighing. “Yeah...I sense it, too.”

“I mean it, Sam. He -- _wait,_ you see it, too?”

He set his mouth into a thin line. “Yeah, I do. Whatever world this Djinn set up is really fucking with him. Now I know Djinn worlds feed off of the victim’s fantasies to make them never want to leave. So I’m trying to figure out if his fantasy was just so good that he’s upset at being back here, or if he’s just having a hard time figuring out what’s real.”

I blew out a breath and stared out the window. “I don’t think he wanted to stay there. I mean, this is Dean we’re talking about. Once you explain what’s real and what’s fake, he’ll always choose real.” Sam snorted. “Tits aside, Sam. I just...he’s done a few things that are just…” I peeked over my shoulder to make sure he was still asleep. “...they’re not him,” I finished in a whisper.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, like, okay. He told me he loved me.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. 

“He kissed my hand in his sleep, and he made some sort of...inside joke to himself about…”

“About what?”

“About you helping him in the shower.”

It was dead silent in the car.

“Huh…” Was all Sam said.

“Exactly.”

More silence.

“So…” Sam started, resting his palms on the steering wheel and splaying his fingers. 

And then more silence.

“Look,” I said, “It may be nothing. But he won’t make eye contact with me, he tenses every time I touch him,” Sam added a quick “Me too!” “...and his eyes are just full of…”

“Shame,” I finished, and at the same time, Sam said, “Guilt.”

After exchanging a started look, we both went back to staring out the windshield.

“So what do we do?” Sam asked.

I shook my head. “I dunno, Sam, but we have to do something. Dean plus shame and guilt is a bad bad bad combo.”

“You don’t think…”

I knew what he was thinking. “I dunno...maybe?”

Sam bit his lip. “We never discussed it with him.”

I sank a little further into my seat. “I know. But if we’re gonna bring it up, we need to make damn fucking sure that’s what it is, first.”

Sam nodded and pulled at his chin. “Yeah, yeah okay. Give him a couple days. Maybe...maybe being back home will help. Let’s watch him, and keep this to ourselves. See if anyone else notices it.”

“Okay…but if he doesn’t snap out of it...”

“Then we’ll talk to him.”

We drove in silence for a while, lost in our own thoughts. I had a feeling we’d be confronting Dean for sure in a couple days, and I was already dreading it.

**xxxxx**

We got home that night, much to Dad’s relief. After the good stuff knocked him out for the ride, Dean refused any pain medication other than Tylenol, which didn’t surprise me given the conversation Sam and I had in the car.

Surprisingly, Sam let Adam get Dean squared away upstairs. It’s hard for Sam to let anyone besides me take care of Dean, but he’s been a lot better about Adam. Besides, Sam was exhausted, and knew Dean was uncomfortable around us anyway.

Once Adam had Dean upstairs, Sam wearily plopped onto the couch and stretched his legs in front of him. I sat next to him, and Dad carefully sat in the recliner opposite him, demanding the whole story, start to finish.

Leaving out Dean’s odd behavior, Sam told our tale, with me chiming in now and then. What I really wanted to do was go upstairs and sit with Dean. But I knew he wanted to get upstairs and be by himself for a while. So I gave him that time...that space.

Even though it drove me nuts.

“And that was it. Everything burned, we got him to the motel, and now we’re here.” Sam stretched, limbs every which way, and groaned when he reached maximum length. 

Mental note: Sam needs another backrub.

Dad coughed, clutching at his chest. 

I half rose from the couch. “You okay?”

He nodded, still coughing, and waved me back into my seat. “Yeah...yeah, I’m fine. Adam said I have to cough now and then to keep my lungs from collapsing. It just hurts like fuck.” He cleared his throat and looked at each of us more closely. “How are _you_ guys doing?”

Sam and I looked at each other. “We’re fine,” I answered. “Just glad to be home...all of us.”

Dad sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s late...you two need some sleep. Let Adam hover over him so you can rest.”

I laughed as I got to my feet. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s as sincere as it sounds.”

Dad rolled his eyes and tried again, a smirk on his lips. “Let Adam hover over him so you can rest and I can get a break from the biggest worrier in the family.” Sam snickered. Then Dad added a fervent, “ _Please!_ ”

How could we turn _that_ down?

**xxxxx**

We got upstairs just as Adam came out of his room. “Hey there,” he said, giving me another big hug. “I’m really glad you guys are home.” His voice was muffled into my neck. 

“Need a break from Dad?” I teased, hugging him back.

He squeezed harder. “Oh my God, he’s a nightmare when he’s hurt. Dean’s so much easier!”

“Speaking of Dean…” Sam started, glancing at his bedroom door. “How’s he seem to you?”

Adam stepped back and shrugged his shoulders, head tilted to the side. “Um...like someone who just got out of a kidnapping? If...I knew what that was like. I mean, he seems a little out of it, a little more...passive, maybe? Why?”

Sam leaned against the wall. “Just wondering if the poison’s out of his system, that’s all.”

Adam scratched his head. “Well, my research says that it shouldn’t take more than a day or two, tops. The more active and alert we can get him, the faster it’ll dissipate. He ate today, right?”

We nodded, and Adam nodded. “That’s good. Most victims won’t eat for a while afterwards. All of them needed time to adjust to reality again, though. So I’m thinking, this is Dean, so maybe a couple days and he’ll be fine.”

“How’s his shoulder look?” Sam asked. It was turning out to be incredibly handy to have a family member with some medical training. Adam’s been taking classes at the local community college now that Castiel assured us no angel or demon is interested in Adam anymore. Apparently, Dad’s reputation carries some weight.

“Good, actually. You popped it in perfectly, and there’s hardly any swelling. Both shoulder joints are sore, but the left should recover with some Tylenol. The right one that popped will take a while longer. I’ll want him in a sling, so get ready for that fight tomorrow.”

“Have fun with that,” I called over my shoulder as I walked into my bedroom. Adam grunted in response and went downstairs.

Instead of going into his own room, as I thought he would, Sam followed me into mine, closing the door behind him and flopping on the bed with a sigh.

“What?” I asked, maybe a little roughly. I wanted to lay down in my bed, and relax.

Instead of responding, he lay his head on my pillow and scrubbed at his eyes, looking more like the nine-year-old Sam I met all those years ago. Dammit, I can’t ignore that. I dropped the shirt I was holding and flopped down next to him.

“Roll over,” I instructed, then proceeded to rub down the muscles all along his back. To reach him better, I straddled him, smiling at his little groans when I hit a particularly sore spot.

We didn’t say anything, I just worked at him, and he just enjoyed it. I thought he fell asleep (as he usually does), until he suddenly rolled over, now lying on his back facing me. I rested my hands on his stomach, and his were on my thighs. We just looked at each other for a minute.

In a soft voice, Sam said, “It’s been a long time since we talked about it.”

I tilted my head to the side and smiled at him. “I know. It’s been, what, eight years or so?”

He nodded and fell silent again.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, absently tracing a devil’s trap on his chest. 

He sighed and shrugged, kneading his fingers into my thighs. “I’m worried about him.”

I lay down next to him, and he lifted his arm so I could slide against him. “I am, too. We’ll give him a couple days, like you said, then see where things stand, okay?” I wrapped an arm around him and snuggled close when I felt him kiss my hair.

“Yeah...okay...”

**xxxxx**

**_Dean_ **

He thought for sure that after a couple days, he’d forget about the Djinn world and everything in it. He figured he remembered wrong, or there was a context he was missing. He was confident that once his shoulder healed and Dad was around making plans for the next hunt, he’d get over it.

He was wrong.

If anything, it was even harder, because the familiarity of home was now infused with something sick and wrong, and he couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard he tried. The details of the fantasy were gone, making the whole experience seem fuzzy and incomplete.

But he remembered how he felt. About them. About their whole… _thing._

And he cried at night from the loss.

Since he woke up and realized what was what, Dean’s done what he could to avoid both Sam and Kate, unable to reconcile anything he did or felt as remotely okay. Anxiety at being found out gnawed at him, making him hide in his room or the garage. He wanted to drink, but not being in control of what he said and did increased the panic, so he muddled through it all sober.

He thought about what Kate said after that warlock nabbed her - that she knows it was a bad thing that happened, but the experience itself wasn’t bad, so she couldn’t feel negatively about it. At the time, he said he understood her, and to a degree, he did. But now, it slammed him with crystal clarity. He liked the fantasy world. He thrived in it. He missed it. 

Even though being kidnapped and having your blood syphoned off while your head lived in a dreamland was a bad thing.

It was getting harder to shirk his siblings, and being around Dad made his heart race with fear. Knowing that Bobby was coming home tomorrow was the last straw. The old hunter wouldn’t give Dean his breathing space - he’d confront him head on about his strange behavior, and Dean knew he’d crack.

And then he’d lose this world, too.

So after a lot of thinking, Dean decided to do the only thing that was best for everyone.

He had to leave.

Not forever leaving, but for a while. For as long as it took to shake this. For as long as he needed to be punished for everything he thought and felt and did. 

For as long as necessary.

There was never going to be a good time to go. He knew Sam would put up a fight, and Kate would silently stand in the corner, demanding answers, but acknowledging his need to run. Adam wouldn’t know what to do, and didn’t have as much invested anyway, so Dean was sure he wouldn’t really care. Dad would understand. If anyone understood the need to run when faced with emotional overload, it was Dad. 

Still, he waited until Dad was out with Jody somewhere, then went upstairs to pack. Sam was outside sparring with Kate, giving him some time to gather up whatever he needed, so he jumped when Sam unexpectedly walked into their bedroom, sweaty and mumbling about girls fighting dirty.

They both stopped and stared at each other a second, before Dean went back to methodically shoving clothes into his bag.

“Um. Going somewhere?” Sam asked, his tone a tinge accusatory.

 _Here we go._ Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah...got a call from an old hunting buddy of Dad’s. He needs some help down in Florida with a case.”

Sam nodded slowly, eyes darting around the room. “Okay...gimme a few minutes to shower and pack, and we’ll get going.” He pulled off his shirt and grabbed a towel hanging by the door.

Without stopping, Dean glanced up at Sam. “No we - I’m going alone.”

Sam froze, hand on the doorknob. His body tensed up, and he slowly turned around. “The hell you are.”

“Sammy…”

“Don’t you fucking _Sammy_ me. You just got back - you’re still recovering. There’s _no way_ you can hunt alone. You shouldn’t be hunting _at all._ ”

Dean gave his bag a shove, sending it on its side. He knew he’d have a fight with Sam, and he totally understood where Sam was coming from. But now that he’s in it, all the anxiety and worry from the last several days spilled out with the frustration Sam naturally brought out in people. “You sayin’ I can’t hunt anymore because the Djinn got me?”

Sam opened his mouth, then shut it. “What the hell are you talking about? _No,_ that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that you’re _hurt._ You’re _injured._ You need time _to heal._ Why are you turning this into something it’s not?”

Dean shook his head and righted his duffel. “I’m not doing anything, Sam. I’m just going on a hunt for a few days. That’s all.”

Sam threw his towel onto the bed. “And I’m telling you, you’re not going.”

Dean’s eyes swiveled up at Sam. “You’re what?”

Sam crossed his arms against his chest and stood tall. “You heard me. You’ve been acting weird all week, and now you’re running away _to hunt?_ I call bullshit on that. You’re running away, alright, but not to hunt.”

Dean swallowed, his heart rate doubled and he swore Sam could hear it beating. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Sam shook his head at him.

Right then, Kate walked in. “What’s going on?” Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, but her bangs and stray wisps of hair were plastered to her face with sweat. She took a drink from a bottle of water, looking carefully from Sam to Dean, assessing the situation.

Sam jutted his chin at Dean. “He says he’s going away for a few days to help a hunting buddy of Dad’s in Florida.”

Kate turned to Dean, her eyes narrowing. “That’s bullshit.”

Sam gave Dean an _I told you so_ look. She went on. “Your shoulder still needs to rest, you’re not done taking the antibiotics for your neck, and that story is a piece of shit, because you’re not running to hunt, you’re running away from us.”

Dean blinked at one, then the other. _What the fuck?_

“So what we’re really gonna do, is sit down, and talk about what the hell happened in your head while the Djinn had you, because that’s the source of all this crap.”

Dean’s breathing quickened. He had to derail this conversation _now._ There was no way he was telling them anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said lamely. Jesus Christ, that was the best he could do?

“That’s the best you can do?” asked Sam. 

_Goddammit_ …”Sam, just...just stop, okay? I don’t need your permission. I can - “

“What did we do?” Kate demanded.

That stopped him. “What?”

“In your dreamstate. What did we do? We must’ve done something to upset you, to make you want to leave us like this.”

“Who said I’m leaving you? I’m just going on a hunt!”

“Yeah? Okay. With who? And where? And for what?”

Ha. He was ready for this one. “Mike Jarvis. Southern Florida. Rougarou.”

Sam and Kate shared a look. In a snotty tone, Kate barked, “Mike’s in the hospital after a Wendigo hunt. Happened two days after you were taken. And Rougarous are in Louisiana, not Florida. Nice try.”

Well, shit. And double shit. Dean sagged, and sat on the edge of the bed, his hands pulling and twisting at a sock. “Listen, I just...I just need a few days to sort through some stuff. That’s all.”

Sam’s arms dropped to his side, and his expression softened. “We know you need time to sort through whatever happened. But whatever happened is making you hide from us, and that part’s not acceptable.”

Kate took a couple steps closer, and before he could stop himself, Dean scooted further away on the bed. It’s not that he didn’t want her close...it’s that he _did_.

She stopped, worry and sadness radiating from her. “Did we...did we do something to you in your dream?” She shot Sam a look, licked her lips real quick, then asked, “Are you mad at us?”

“What?! No!” Dean shot off the bed, and began pacing, grimacing as his shoulder pulled. “It’s not you!”

Sam snorted.

“It isn’t! You didn’t do anything. I just...I…” He stopped moving, his hands still working at the sock, which started to rip as he pulled on it. 

“What, Dean?” Sam asked softly.

“I can’t be around you right now! That’s all! _Jesus,_ can’t you leave me alone in this?”

“No,” Kate whispered. “We can’t.” In a stronger voice, she added, “If we knew what the problem was? We could work with you. But you walking around upset over something that happened in your head? No. We can’t.”

Dean growled in frustration, moving back to his bag. “Well, I’m sorry about that. But I’m going anyway.”

“Was it sex?”

Kate and Dean’s mouths dropped open, and they both stared at Sam, who looked like he couldn’t believe that question popped out of his mouth.

“Wh...what?” Dean gasped.

Sam swallowed, looking hard at Kate, before turning back to Dean. “Is that what this is about? Were we all...like...all…” He made goofy hand motions, as if charades was the right way to handle this conversation. 

“Sam...I…” Dean was pretty sure he would be passing out any second.

Kate noticed, and moved in, one hand on his arm, the other guiding him to the bed. “Sit down, Dean, you look like you’re gonna fall over.” She glared at Sam. “Nice and subtle, dude.”

Sam exhaled explosively. “I didn’t know how else to ask!”

“There are about _a million better ways to ask!_ Go put a shirt on. You look ridiculous yelling with your chest muscles all wiggling.”

Huffing, Sam pulled on another shirt. “You could’ve stepped in any time.”

“I was going to! I just didn’t expect you to blurt it out like that!”

“I was desperate! He’s gonna leave and I had to stop him!”

“You know I’m sitting right here…” Dean massaged his forehead, not sure how the train got onto this track. He was just gonna leave for a while. It was so simple...now? It’s a clusterfuck.

Kate sighed, and sat next to him. “Look. We’ve been trying to figure this out for a while. You’re not talking, and we think you need to. Instead, you’re running. Why would you run? You’d only run if you thought you did something bad or wrong. So let’s start simple, okay? Did you beat us?”

Dean stared at her incredulously. “Beat you?! My fantasy dream world involves me beating you?”

Kate held up her hands defensively. “I’m just askin’! In the absence of information, I’m just looking at all options.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and tossed the ripped sock onto the floor There was no way he was getting out of here, now.

“So, no violence, right?” Dean shook his head. “And it’s a fantasy world, so I’m assuming most everything was good, right?” Dean now closed his eyes tight and nodded, wanting to crawl into her arms and hide. “Okay. So...we were there…”

Sam piped up, “Mom must’ve been there, right?” Dean said nothing, but he felt tears gather in his eyes. 

“Dad?” 

Dean shook his head no.

“We don’t have to tell him that,” Kate offered, nudging him gently, and Dean heard the smile on her lips. He just couldn’t return it.

She sighed, and rose, walking over to Sam. Dean opened his eyes and stared at the floor. Sam’s bed creaked, and when he looked up, Sam and Kate were sitting on it, looking at each other.

“This has gone on long enough. Time to tell him,” Sam decided.

“Tell me what?” Dean asked, curious despite his overwhelming panic.

**xxxxx**

**_Kate_ **

So it was now time for Dean to know that Sam and I had the incest talk when we were barely teenagers.

I know, it’s supposed to be weird and sick and wrong. But maybe hold off on the judgment a minute. The way we grew up - forced together in close quarters every day, no friendships lasting more than a few months, no chance at having an actual relationship, and living in fear and lies all the fucking time. We needed something more than family for support and release and honesty and just...love.

**OOOOO**  
 _  
Sam let the curtain drop as soon as the Impala left the parking lot. “They’re gone,” he called out unnecessarily._

_I was in the kitchen, stirring a dented pot full of Spaghetti O's on the stove. “Finally. Think they’ll actually be home before we go back to school on Monday?”_

_Sam shrugged his shoulders as he padded into the kitchen. “I dunno. Shouldn’t take more than a couple days to get an angry spirit, as long as they know where the bones are.”_

_I snorted, scraping the bottom of the pan. “Like Dean will be much help researching the local records.”_

_Sam barked a laugh and leaned on the counter. “I know. He’ll probably be calling tomorrow once Dad drops him off at the records building asking for help.”_

_“Yeah, well records buildings have limited hours on Saturdays, so he doesn’t have much time.”_

_Sam shrugged again. “That’s his problem.”_  
  
 **OOOOO**

“Wait - I remember that weekend.” Dean squinted at Sam. “You were like, what, fifteen or something?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah - sophomore year. Dad made us move twice before April.” He shook his head. “I wanted to kill him.”

**OOOOO**  
 _  
Dinner ready, we sat down to eat, the TV on in the background for some noise. This was the first time Dad left us alone while he and Dean went on a weekend hunt, and we were enjoying not talking about hunting._

_As we cleaned up the dishes, a tremendous boom of thunder shook the entire apartment, making us jump. “Fuck…” Sam swore, going back to the window and checking outside. “Jesus - the rain is coming down so hard I can’t even see across the parking lot.”_

_The lightning flashed brilliant white, illuminating the living room, before everything went completely pitch black._

_“Well, shit,” I said, groping for a flashlight. Sam swore as he stumbled over something, and by the time I found the light, he was sitting on the floor rubbing his shin. “You dork. Let me see it.”_

_He rolled his eyes and petulantly turned away. “It’s fine. I just bumped the fucking table.”_

_I rolled my eyes back at him. “I didn’t think you broke it, silly. Just let me look.”_

_Huffing, Sam pulled up his sweats so I could examine his leg. I set the flashlight on a chair, directing the beam of light onto him. I sat on the floor, and gently ran my fingers over his shin, feeling his firm calf muscles. His skin was red and starting to swell a little, and he winced when I touched it._

_The rain was pounding on the roof and beating against the windows, providing a constant stream of noise. Thunder intermittently sounded in an awkward dance beat to the lightning, rattling the windows. We still jumped, even though you knew it was coming. Somewhere in the parking lot, a car alarm sounded in protest to the storm._

_The next flash of lightning lit Sam’s face, and I saw him staring intently at my hands, then at me. My breath caught, and I could feel a warm blush rise up my neck and onto my cheeks._  
  
 **OOOOO**

“Oh, Jesus Christ, I don’t want to hear this.”

“Really? You want me to stop?”

“Fuck you. Keep going.”

**OOOOO**  
 _  
“So...it’s...um...fine. Just...bruised,” I stammered, unable to take my eyes off him._

_Sam nodded, his hair flopping into his face, begging me to brush it aside and tuck the strands behind his ear. He licked his lips, cleared his throat, then looked at the floor as he pulled his pant leg down. “Thanks...for checking it.”_

_“Yeah...no problem.”_

_We sat there, hearts hammering with the rain. Unable to stop myself, I did reach out and brush aside his hair. I caressed his cheek, and he smiled at me...that fucking Sam smile that screams sincerity and love and rainbows and glitter._

_He turned his head, and hesitantly kissed my hand. I scooted closer. With a huff, he pulled me onto his lap and held me tight. I nuzzled his neck with my face, and smiled when he groaned._  
  
 **OOOOO**

I watched a rainbow of emotions flash across Dean’s face - shock, wonder, confusion, curiosity, interest, disbelief - all of them rotating through as he processed what he was hearing.

**OOOOO**  
 _  
We awkwardly kissed and petted for a while, neither of us sure what the hell to do next. By the time the rain died down, we were in our bed, mostly naked and completely confused._

_“This isn’t quite what I thought it’d be…” Sam said ruefully._

_I wasn’t offended, because I felt the same way. “Yeah...I know. I mean, it’s not that you’re - “_

_“You either!!”_

_“I just…” The statement hung there, and I played with the blanket while Sam stared out the window._

_“So...now what?” I asked, laughing a little. Sam joined in, and we lay there giggling for a few minutes._

_Finally, Sam raised his arm, and I scooted close. He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be a horny teenager, and here I am in bed with a pretty girl but…”_

_I nudged him. “But it’s like kissing your sister. Because...you are.”_

_He huffed and squeezed me. “Yeah, but not at first it wasn’t...and I don’t want you to think that it’s you.”_

_I snorted and propped myself on my elbow. “Sam. It IS me. Just not in a bad way. And honestly? It’s you, too. I mean, it **was** great at first, and then it just...isn’t taking me to the next level.” I touched my forehead to his and sighed. “I love you, you know.”_

_“I love you, too.” We breathed in unison a few beats. “But…”_

_I leaned back and raised my eyebrows. “But…?”_

_Sam bit his lip. “I like...being with you. I mean, I like being...close. I like kissing you. I just...I don’t want that to change. I like not having to pretend about who I am, what we do...or **anything** with you. And sometimes, it’s like...”_

_“...Really awesome to just have someone there for you. I get it.” Shrugging, I lay back down, our heads on his pillow. “It doesn’t have to change. I mean...if we’re both cool with it, then what’s the big deal?”_

_“Dad will flip.”_

_“Um...were you planning on telling him that while we may not actually fuck each other, we’re totally cool about other stuff?”_

_That earned me a headbutt. “You know what I mean. We can’t tell him, or give him any reason to think something’s up.”_

_“No kidding.”_  
  
 **OOOOO**

“How did I miss this? I mean, I always knew you two were…,” Dean vaguely gestured at us, “...close and all but I didn’t know you were _close_ close.”

Rolling my eyes, I patiently explained. “We weren't making out all the time. We’re trying to tell you that this idea of us being together isn’t new. If that’s what this is about, well...”

Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You know, if that isn’t it, you just fessed up for nothing.”

Sam leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Are we wrong?”

He swallowed hard and blinked furiously. “What about Jess?”

Sam did a double take. “What about her?”

Dean tried to shrug, but stopped when his shoulder protested. “How did this work with her? And Jenny McCarry? And the other girls? And...you’re…” He looked at me quizzically. “Have you _ever_ had a boyfriend?”

 _Thanks for pointing that out._ I shot him a sour look.

Sam explained, “We weren’t dating each other, Dean, we just decided that it was okay for us to get comfort from each other without worrying about...boundaries. Jess knew we were close. She was pretty cool with it, actually.”

“You _told_ her?” Dean asked, his voice squeaking a little. 

“She asked, actually, after Kate and I fell asleep together on the couch during a visit.”

I nodded. “Apparently we didn’t behave like she did with her brother. So...yeah.”

Dean sat silently, thinking.

I tried again. “Look, you’ve been acting like...like you’ve done something wrong, and you look...ashamed for it. So…” I quickly looked at Sam. “So that’s why we were wondering if...maybe...in your dream, we all...”

Dean bit his lip.

“Oh, Dean…” I slid off the bed and stood in front of him. “The point of telling you was so you would know that...it’s okay. We’re...we’re not freaked out by it.”

Dean huffed, sniffed, and wiped at his eyes. He got up and moved towards the window, away from me. “ _I’m_ freaked out by it, okay? It’s not right.”

“By who’s definition of right?” Sam demanded.

“You don’t understand.”

“Excuse me? I think we do,” Sam countered.

Dean shook his head. “You’re both… _*sigh*_...I’m older.”

I squinted at him. “So?”

He sighed again. “So, it’s like...I’m...preying on you or something.”

Sam barked a laugh, then choked it back when Dean glared at him. “Sorry…” he muttered, “But that was ridiculous.”

“I told you you wouldn’t understand,” Dean snapped, twisting away to face the window.

I saw where this was going, and I knew what was in his head. I needed to make him see that this wasn’t a big deal, even if it felt like it. “Dean...walk me through this. Was I, or Sam, upset at you in your dream? I mean, were we victims?”

Dean stiffened, and I knew I had him.

“Okay, that’s a no. It was consensual, then, right?”

Again, no answer. I looked to Sam, who nodded and took over. “Dean - Kate and I spent a lot of time talking this whole thing out.” Dean looked like he wanted to throw up. “Which, okay, I know that’s not your thing,” Sam hastily added. “But listen, there are layers to this - it isn’t just that you want to fuck us, okay?” Dean winced at that. “C’mon, you know what I mean. You liked it, didn’t you?”

Now, Dean stiffened again, and I could see him trying to find a way out of this. _Sorry big brother, no can do._

But then it hit me. How stupid of me. I took another step towards him. “You’re thinking that you want it now, is that it? You want that...scenario now? The feelings that came with it all?”

Well, magic words do magic things. Dean completely turned away. 

_Bingo._

I blew out a breath, and came up behind him “Dean, listen to me. Please. This isn’t about the sex, okay? It really isn’t.” He was shaking now. _Dammit._ “You can get laid any time you want. You know that. You’ve done it. That’s not it. When Sam and I - “ 

Strangled whimper. _Fuckingfuckfuck._

Then he cleared his throat, and spoke in a shaky whisper. “What I felt, was _free,_ okay? We didn’t hunt. Sam was marrying Jess. Mom was alive. You and I were… _*sigh*_ I wasn’t scared about losing one of you to a fucking spirit. I wasn’t worried about Dad not ever killing the Demon and wasting his life away. I didn’t feel like I had to be something I wasn’t. I just...was…me.” He peeked over his shoulder. “And that was enough.”

Sam got up and huffed. “That’s always been enough. More than enough. You just always _thought_ that you had to _be_ more...had to _do_ more. And you didn’t, not then, and _not now._ ”

Dean dragged a hand down his face, scrubbing a little extra at his eyes. “Yeah, well it kept you both safe.”

I put my arms around him. “No… _you_ kept us safe. That persona kept _you_ safe, from letting people in.”

 _Ooooh_ I hit that one on the head. I thought about Cassie, and once again, wanted to kick her ass for hurting him.

He took in a deep breath, holding it a second, before slowly letting it out.

Sam nudged me. I turned to look at him.

_Do it._

_Are you nuts?_

_He needs to see - just do it._

I pressed my lips together. _Fine._

“Dean...c’mere…” I spun him around, and made him look at me. “Don’t freak out. Just...trust me. Okay?”

Before Dean could say anything, I kissed him. Now, I haven’t kissed many people. When you look at my list, my brother, a warlock and an angel hold the most experience with me, and that’s really...well, that’s fucked up. Anyway. I gave it my all, and if I do say so myself, it was a pretty damn fucking good kiss.

I forced his mouth open with my tongue, held his face in my hands, and pulled him right to me. He hesitated at first, eyes widening in shock, and he almost pushed me away. But something else took over, and before I knew it, he crushed me to him, a short sob of pain escaping his lips as his arms moved in ways they weren’t ready to move.

We parted slowly, and I even added an extra peck on his lips as he stood up straight, wonder and confusion on his face.

And...embarrassment.

“Well?” I asked, wiping my mouth and taking a step back.

“Um...it...uh…” He cleared his throat, and looked at Sam.

“Go on. It’s okay.” Sam crossed his arms again and waited.

“It was like…”

“...kissing your sister?” I finished for him, putting my hands on my hips and smiling at him.

Dean blushed. “Yeah...it was...I mean it was great, but...not like…” And then he stopped, blushing even more.

I smiled a little more. “Not like in your dream, huh?”

Dean swallowed, then shook his head no.

Sam stepped in, “That’s why it never went much further. It wasn’t really… _it,_ you know? But the concept? The idea? Given how we were raised? I’m shocked we’re as normal as we are.”

Someone snorted behind him, and we all turned to find Adam leaning in the doorway. “This family is anything but normal. But that’s okay!” He added that last part real quick when he realized how that sounded. He took a step in the room, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen...I sorta...heard most of this from the hallway.” We all looked at each other, mortified. “You were kinda loud. And...for what it’s worth, I’m surprised we’re all not totally interlocked and completely nuts by now.”

He stopped in the middle of the room, and folded his arms. “I mean, I haven’t even been here a whole year, and already…” He gestured at me. “If I didn’t have you, I’d be batshit crazy by now. In the beginning, I needed someone there, physically, all the time, just to feel grounded. For a while, I thought you were gonna think I was a sick pervert with the way I was constantly attached to you. Not to mention I was freaked about you two killing me for it.” 

Sam shook his head, but Adam waved him off. “No, I know. It was the way Kate handled it - like...like it was no big deal. Like she understood what I needed, and maybe sometimes she needed it, too. It just _wasn’t a big deal._ But...Dean, man, it’s okay. It’s all good. You liked feeling free, and being honest with the people you’re closest to - well, that _is_ freedom. _That_ was your fantasy. It just manifested itself in an unconventional way. You just need to remember that you can have that here, even when you’re not sick or hurt. Just...without the bonking, I guess.”

 _Well, shit._

Unable to resist, I poked Sam. “See? That was more eloquent than ‘Is it sex?’”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck off.”

“Pfffft...none of that, remember?”

He chuckled and gave me a little push, which I returned, then we realized… _ooooh...right_ ….Dean. We looked at him, and he was standing there, looking at each of us. Speechless.

I tugged on his sleeve. “I know where Bobby hides the ice cream. Let’s have a bowl and not talk about this anymore.”

Sam threw his hands in the air. “I’m for that.”

“I’m in!” Adam added, both of them practically running out the door. 

Dean hesitated, pulling me back to him. Questioningly, I looked at him, wondering what he was thinking. “Yes?”

“I… _thanks._ I don’t think I’m over this yet, but…”

“But you feel a little better?” I asked hopefully.

“Yeah...a little. There’s a lot to process, here.” He smiled ruefully, and reached up to rub at his sore shoulder. 

I tilted my head from side to side. “True. But you _can_ process it, and it’ll be okay.” I bent over his bed, and pushed his duffel bag a little. “Do you still need to leave?”

He grimaced at his shoulder. “No...at least...I don’t think so. I just thought...you… _*sigh*_ you know what I mean.”

I touched his cheek. “I know exactly what you mean. And no - we don’t hate you. We could never, ever, hate you. Understand?”

He nodded. I patted his cheek and headed out of his room, Dean on my heels. “By the way, who the fuck taught you to kiss like that?”

I shook my head and kept walking, thinking of my short list. “You don’t want to know.”

**xxxxx**

**_John_ **

John came home later that night, sore as fuck, but with a light heart. He still felt really weird hanging out with Jody Mills, but she made him smile, and after twenty-four years of not smiling, he needed it.

_Badly._

He walked into the house, noting the flickering lights coming from the living room television set. He dropped his keys into the little bowl thing on the entry table, then locked and warded the front door. After a brief struggle with his jacket, he draped it over a chair and wandered into the living room. The sight before him made him smile.

The couch was full of his sleeping kids. All four of them were tangled together, feet propped up on ottomans and other chairs pulled close. Dean and Kate were next to each other, Dean’s head crammed under her chin, her arms tight around him. Sam was nestled on her other side, arms around her, feet entwined with hers. Adam rested on Dean’s hip, Dean’s arm looped across his back.

The TV was droning on about amazing steak knives, and he thinks Sam was snoring.

Chuckling softly, John grabbed a couple blankets from the closet, and draped them over his kids. Some fathers might be a little put off by their closeness, by their physical contact.

Not John.

He knew they needed each other in order to survive in this life. He did that to them...and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to condemn them for it. Besides, it made them stronger, and he had a feeling they’d need that strength very soon. He brushed Sam’s hair off his face.

_Real soon._

Sighing, John turned off the TV, and went to bed.

 

**===end===**

**Author's Note:**

> Cue typo explanation: Kate tells Dean that she and Sam were NOT making out all the time. However, in the original published version, she said they were. When you look at the context for that dialogue, that makes no sense. They were not making out.


End file.
